


take aim and reload

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bondage, F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, Fluff, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Smut, mentions of May - Freeform, skye/may comparisons are made
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2815472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What starts out as a friendly game goes too far and, well, Fitz has a tendency to hold a grudge. Established Fitzsimmons. Fluff & very light smut included. Based on the prompt "not time to play hide-and-seek", this is my secret santa gift to the lovely laangol on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take aim and reload

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laangol](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=laangol).



“Oh, please let it go, Fitz. You’re acting childish,” said Jemma, rolling her eyes as she entered the lab.  
  
Fitz scoffed. “Oh, I’m being childish. You’re the one who said,” he cleared his throat so that he could do his impersonation of Simmons’ voice, “‘it’ll be such fun, Fitz, just to pass the time.’ It was your bloody idea!”  
  
“You couldn’t find it either! It’s not my fault that it’s gone!” she defended.  
  
Skye opened the glass door and heard the arguing.  
  
“Skye! Tell Jemma to apologize for losing one of my prized possessions,” said Fitz when he saw her.  
  
“And tell Fitz that it wasn’t my fault and he should let it go,” said Jemma in response.  
  
“What is it this time?” she asked, biting into an apple.  
  
The question was answered with a frenzy of words as Fitz and Simmons both tried to explain their sides of the situation simultaneously.  
  
“—and Jemma lost it!” Fitz ended. “My signed vortex manipulator!”  
  
“—not my fault, Fitz was the one who couldn’t find it,” said Jemma.  
  
“Wait,” Skye swallowed a piece of apple. “This is about that Doctor Who toy thing, Fitz?”  
  
“It’s not a toy, it’s a limited edition replica from series six, and it was signed by Matt Smith and Karen Gillan! It’s irreplaceable!” Fitz cried. “And Jemma lost it and can’t find it, now it’s gone forever.”  
  
“Oh, please, Fitz. Don’t be so dramatic,” groaned Simmons, putting on her lab coat. “We were playing with it to pass the time while we waited for the results of the—”  
  
“Bollocks!” yelled Fitz. “It was your idea, you had it, and how could you just bloody forget where you put it?” He turned to Skye. “That vortex manipulator is now somewhere on the Playground, probably being sat on by Koenig, or being melted down in acid, or—”  
  
“Okay, I get it,” said Skye. “What do you want me to do about it?”  
  
“Make her say she’s sorry!” shouted Fitz.  
  
Skye looked at Simmons and raised her eyebrows.  
  
“It wasn’t my fault,” argued Jemma.  
  
Skye raised her eyebrows higher.  
  
“Fine,” groaned Simmons, turning to Fitz. “I’m sorry that your vortex manipulator is gone.” She turned back to Skye. “You look just like May when you do that.”  
  
Skye bit into her apple. “You two should stop arguing over nerd merch and get back to work,” she called behind her as she left the lab.  
  
“She sounds just like May, too,” whispered Fitz. Jemma nodded.  
  
\- - -  
  
The Doctor Who closing theme song filled Fitz’s bunk. Fitz and Simmons were lying side by side on Fitz’s bed, both watching the British sci-fi show intently.  
  
“Honestly, this new Doctor is just a disappointment,” said Fitz, closing the window on his laptop that displayed the rolling credits for the episode that they had just finished watching. “Bloody shite excuse for a Scotsman.”  
  
“Oh, Fitz, don’t be so melodramatic,” said Jemma, grabbing Fitz’s wrist and maneuvering his arm around her shoulders. “He’s a fine Doctor, you’re just bitter that Matt Smi—”  
  
“Don’t speak his name, Jemma,” said Fitz seriously. “Don’t reopen that wound.”  
  
Jemma rolled her eyes. “Well, at the very least, Clara is a great companion.”  
  
Fitz huffed. “Clara is leaving after Christmas,” he closed the laptop. “She’s a traitor.”  
  
“Don’t be so bitter, Fitz,” she curled against his side.  
  
He slid the computer off his lap and placed it on the table by his bed. “I’ll be as bitter as I want; I lost a very important sentiment today that can never be replaced—”  
  
“Not this again!” cried Jemma, pulling herself from his embrace. “Fitz, I told you that I was sorry.”  
  
“Sorry doesn’t bring it back, now does it?” said Fitz bitterly.  
  
“Well…” One of her hands pressed against his chest. “Perhaps there’s something I could do…”  
  
He scoffed. “Jemma, I’m just giving you a hard time…”  
  
“Fitz…” She rolled her eyes. “I’m asking if you’ll let me make it up to you.”  
  
“I already said that I was just picking fun at ya, I’ve gotten over it,” Fitz said.  
  
Rolling her eyes again, Jemma moved to straddle his hips.  
  
“Jemma, you don’t—” He finally realized what she was proposing and his mouth dropped open. “Oh. Oh. Well…I…I s’pose that I could allow that.”  
  
She smiled, running her hands over his chest and playing with a button on his shirt. “Good, because I don’t think I could cope with you holding that over me for the next twenty years.”  
  
“You overestimate my ability to hold a grudge,” Fitz said quietly, leaning up to kiss Simmons as he placed his hands on her hips.  
  
“I’m not so sure about that…” She smiled against his lips. “I still don’t think you’ve forgiven Skye for the incident with Sneezy.”  
  
He groaned. “It took me weeks to repair him, Jemma! Weeks!”  
  
“See?” Simmons said pointedly.  
  
“I guess you’re right,” Fitz sighed. Suddenly, he grabbed Jemma’s hips and rolled them both over. She yelped.  
  
“I thought that I was—” Jemma began.  
  
“No,” Fitz interrupted. “I get to choose what we do.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “It’s only fair.”  
  
Jemma let out a short laugh. “Alright, Fitz…”  
  
He grinned, skimming his hands over the flesh of her stomach, raising her top until it revealed a purple bra underneath. Jemma grabbed the hem of her shirt and swiftly removed it.  
  
“Someone’s impatient,” said Fitz, whose wandering hands had found their way to her back and were unhooking her bra.  
  
She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down for another kiss.  
  
He pulled away first, panting. Fitz moved backward on his hands and knees, gaping at her body as he went. His fingers slid over her waistband, tugging at it slightly, but only running his palms over her form; never anything more.  
  
“Come on, Fitz,” she said exasperatedly.  
  
Looking up at her face, Fitz smiled and unbuttoned her pants as she wanted him to.  
  
“But before we get into all that,” he interjected, rolling off the bed to rummage through his bedside table. He held something in the air and slammed the drawer shut.  
  
Handcuffs.  
  
“Where in the bloody hell,” asked Jemma in surprise, “did you get those?”  
  
“In some of Ward’s old things,” he said sheepishly, “I wanted to use them to, y’know, arrest somebody—that would be so cool and heroic, don’t ya think? Being like a detective with—”  
  
“Nevermind that,” said Simmons, stopping him short. “What did you have in mind to do with them?”  
  
“Oh,” he tripped over his own feet, stumbling back to the bed. He locked a cuff around Jemma’s wrist. “I was going to do this.” He looped them around one of the bars on his headboard and secured Jemma’s other wrist so that she couldn’t move.  
  
Fitz climbed back onto the bed and crawled down her body once again. This time, he pulled down the hem of her jeans and slid the clothing down her legs, taking her panties with them.  
  
“Eyes closed,” ordered Fitz.  
  
She furrowed her brow. “What?”  
  
“Just do it. Trust me,” he said, rubbing his palms over the flesh of her legs and hips.  
  
She complied, and was rewarded when Fitz pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh. Jemma inhaled sharply, surprised by the sudden contact but oh so grateful for it. Now if only he’d place his mouth where she really wanted it.  
  
And, as if he had read her mind, he did.  
  
Jemma let out a gasp that got caught in her throat and turned into a low moan. Honestly, if this was how he responded, she should lose his things more often. Her thoughts flickered to his Remus Lupin replica wand that he had fawned over for days after he had gotten it.  
  
Then he flicked his tongue out to taste her and she instantly forgot about everything in the world that wasn’t him.  
  
Fitz moved slowly but surely, hands simultaneously travelling up and down one of her thighs as his mouth continued. Jemma’s groans and whispers of his name filled his ears and he had to pause his ministrations for a moment to calm himself down. When he did, he looked up at her face to see her gazing back down at him, eyes dark and cheeks flushed.  
  
“’Eyes closed’, I said,” Fitz repeated.  
  
She huffed, “Well don’t stop, then.” Her heart was still racing and Jemma Simmons was many things, but patient was not one of them.  
  
“Jemma,” he said warningly. “I choose. That was the deal.”  
  
“Alright,” she sighed, scrunching her eyes closed and resting her head back on the pillow.  
  
When he saw that she had listened to him, Fitz pressed his lips to her clit and continued his earlier actions.  
  
Pressure built up in her abdomen, her whole body buzzing with the sensation. It was becoming too much, and god, just a bit more and…  
  
Then he stopped completely.  
  
“What—” she cried out and was about to open an eye.  
  
“Shh,” Fitz stopped her, “keep them closed. Just wait.”  
  
She sighed for what seemed like the millionth time, kept her eyes squeezed shut and waited. She listened for the sound of him undressing or sifting through his things, but heard nothing. A minute passed. Then two. And it was all too much, because, damn it, she was so close.  
  
Simmons opened her eyes for a split second, having grown impatient and incapable of showing any more self-control. What she saw—or, rather, didn’t see—made her panic, until she realized that it had been his plan all along.  
  
Fitz was gone.  
  
“Fitz! This is not the time to play hide-and-seek!” cried Jemma to the empty bunk room in anguish.  
  
She heard Fitz’s distant response; he sounded far too pleased with himself for her liking. “You can find me just like you found my vortex manipulator!”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Fitzsimmons Secret Santa gift for laangol on Tumblr. Hopefully it's as lovely as she is!


End file.
